


The Stars Turn Gold

by Triangulum



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, Thor (Movies), X-Men (Comicverse)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Gods & Goddesses, Endgame Fix-It, F/F, F/M, Fluff and Smut, Oral Sex, Soulmates, Vaginal Sex
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-09-03
Updated: 2019-12-26
Packaged: 2020-10-06 17:14:08
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 11,049
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20510594
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Triangulum/pseuds/Triangulum
Summary: Ficlets I've written for theMarvel-ous Birthday“Panties, your older boyfriend’s shirt, and boxed mac and cheese?” Tony says.“I’m a classy bitch, all right?” Darcy says.“You do know I have a chef,” Tony says.“He doesn’t have noodles in the shape of unicorns though,” Darcy says, turning in his arms, wrapping her arms around the back of his neck. “And that’s what today’s shitstorm requires.”“Hmm,” Tony says, slipping a finger in the hem of her panties, other hand reaching past her to turn off the burner. “How about a handful of orgasms and pizza from that place in Brooklyn instead?”Darcy doesn’t even pretend to think about it. “Sold,” she says, taking his hand and tugging him to the bedroom.





	1. Darcy/Tony NSFW

**Author's Note:**

> This is a place where I'm collecting the ficlets I've written for the [Marvel-ous Birthday](https://archiveofourown.org/series/700227) series, just so I have them in one place. Chapters will be labeled by pairing and will say if they're NSFW or not.

It has been a draining day. There was a minor lab fire that meant the fancy fire suppression foam the tower uses had rained down all over their lab, successfully putting the fire out but also coating Darcy and Jane in bright green foam. Jane called uncle at that point and they both left the lab in desperate need of a shower.

Darcy leaves Jane with Thor, who is valiantly trying not to laugh at her foam-crusted hair, and takes the private elevator up to Tony’s penthouse. JARVIS kindly tells her he’s already started the shower for her, and doesn’t even sound like he’s making fun of her, bless.

It takes almost an hour for the water not to run green when she wrings out her hair, but finally she smells like the vanilla shampoo Tony keeps here for her and not a fire extinguisher. She pulls on just a clean pair of panties and one of Tony’s AC/DC shirts before going to his kitchen, pulling out a box of macaroni and cheese she keeps hidden behind his protein bars. 

The water is boiling, noodles dumped in, and Darcy is stirring the pot when Tony walks in, sliding up behind her. She sighs as he wraps his arms around her waist, pressing a kiss to the side of her neck. Darcy hums, leaning back into him as one of his hands toys with the hem of her shirt.

“Panties, your older boyfriend’s shirt, and boxed mac and cheese?” Tony says.

“I’m a classy bitch, all right?” Darcy says.

“You do know I have a chef,” Tony says.

“He doesn’t have noodles in the shape of unicorns though,” Darcy says, turning in his arms, wrapping her arms around the back of his neck. “And that’s what today’s shitstorm requires.”

“Hmm,” Tony says, slipping a finger in the hem of her panties, other hand reaching past her to turn off the burner. “How about a handful of orgasms and pizza from that place in Brooklyn instead?”

Darcy doesn’t even pretend to think about it. “Sold,” she says, taking his hand and tugging him to the bedroom.

Tony has a specific weakness for her in his shirts, even though he jokingly complains about her tits stretching them out, and Darcy is happy to shamelessly take advantage of that, adding a sway in her step so that she knows he’s staring at her ass.

Tony spins her once they’re in the bedroom, yanking her to him for a bruising kiss. He tugs her closer by the ass, grinding the hard bulge in his jeans against her and making her gasp. She’s already wet for him, as she usually is when his hands are on her, and the stress of the day is melting off.

Tony pushes her down until she’s lying on the bed, grinning as she tugs her shirt over her head. Tony curses under his breath, as if he doesn’t see her naked nearly everyday, and damn if that isn’t always a fun confidence boost. He crawls up the bed after her, tugging down her panties before shouldering his way between her thighs, spreading her wide. 

“Fuck, kitten, look at you,” he says, trailing a finger up her wet slit. “This is just the best part of my day.”

She’s going to say something snarky about how she would hope so considering he spent the whole day with Steve, but then he licks up her wet labia and all she can do is gasp. There’s a smirk playing at his lips but he can be as smug as he wants as long as he doesn’t stop.

Tony takes pride in his work in all aspects of life, and that includes how thoroughly he takes her apart. He brings her off quickly, tongue fluttering over her hard little clit, fingers working inside her. She gasps his name, hand twisting in his hair as she trembles apart. 

He’s never satisfied at one though, and as soon as her thighs are done shaking, he’s pressing a third finger into her, crooking them and pressing right against her g-spot. She groans, throwing her head back, reaching up to play with her nipples the way she loves (and the way that drives Tony crazy). He groans, ducking back between her legs and sucking her clit between his lips.

Tony isn’t as quick as he was the first time, content to draw her next orgasm out of her. He coaxes her pleasure out gently with his fingers buried in her and his tongue between her thighs, humming against her soft, slick flesh.

When she starts tightening around his fingers, the telltale beginning of an orgasm starting, Tony presses more insistently against her g-spot, moving his tongue quicker against the side of her clit, just the way that drives her insane. He’s watching her hungrily, like he can’t decide whether to focus on her hands on her breasts or her face.

It’s just a few more licks and her pinching her nipples before the pleasure is crashing through her, her thighs tightening on either side of Tony’s head. He doesn’t stop, keeping his mouth and fingers moving until the waves of pleasure subside and she lets her legs fall open. Tony withdraws slowly, his eyes intent on where she’s red and wet from him. The look in his eyes as he rakes his gaze up her is one she knows well and even though she’s just come from him, it sends a jolt of want through her.

“Hands and knees for me, kitten,” he says, voice rough. 

She immediately obeys, rolling over until she’s kneeling on the bed, taking it one step further and dropping to her elbows, showing off her dripping cunt. Tony hums behind her, running a hand over her ass, his thumb just brushing her wet folds, before it falls away completely. Darcy hangs her head, taking deep breaths to avoid whining.

“Stay there,” he says, rising from the bed to tug off his clothes. It’s almost no time at all before he’s crawling back on the bed behind her, wanting this just as much as she does. Darcy has a moment to wonder if his day was as chaotic as hers, but then he’s brushing the tip of his cock over her soaked folds and she suddenly doesn’t care anymore. 

Tony pushes into her slowly, the drag of his cock perfect within her. His hands are tight on her hips as he thrusts into her at an achingly slow pace, happy to tease her. She knows he wants to fuck her harder, can tell in the way he grips her hips tightly, how his thrusts are careful and controlled. And she wants that control to slip.

Darcy arches her back even further, pushing back into his thrusts. His grip on her hips tightens, her name falling from his lips along with a few colorful curses. It works, though. He fucks into her faster, hips slamming against her, the room full of the obscene wet sound of them moving together. 

Her breaths are getting shorter, a low sort of pleasure building deep within her, rising sharply when Tony tugs her closer, his hand low on her stomach. The angle changes enough that she’s gasping, thighs shaking as zings of pleasure shoot through her. Tony knows it, knows her body like the back of his hand, and drops his fingers between her legs to press gently against the side of her wet, swollen clit. Darcy cries out, letting her forehead rest on the mattress.

Tony leans over, lips brushing her neck as he hisses, “Let me feel you come, kitten.”

The thing is, Tony is really good at what he does, knows exactly how to play her body so that even though she’s already come twice, her body still tingling with the aftershocks of what he’s already done to her, he manages to coax her pleasure from her again. He forces an orgasm out of her with clever fingers and his cock dragging just right inside her until she’s shouting his name, spasming around him.

Tony groans, thrusting into her faster, her wet pussy clenching around him as he fucks her through her orgasm until he’s coming himself. He stills as he empties inside her, hands jerking on her waist. Her elbows can’t hold her up anymore, not with how her arms are shaking, and she collapses forward, whining when Tony’s cock slips from her.

Tony flops to the bed next to her a few moments later, breathing as harshly as she is. Darcy rolls her head, headbutting him in the shoulder as she scoots closer. Tony just snorts and lifts his arm, letting her curl into his side. She feels the rest of the stress from her day, everything that he hasn’t already fucked out of her, melt away as he kisses her forehead. 

They’re quiet for a few minutes, content to just lie there, until Darcy tilts her head, looking up at him with a sly grin. “So, about that pizza…”


	2. Bucky/Wanda NSFW

T’Challa had offered them all sanctuary in Wakanda after the mess the media was calling the Civil War, but the logistics of that haven’t quite been figured out yet, so until then, Bucky, Wanda, Natasha, Steve, and Sam are all staying in a guest wing of the palace. There are plenty of days when T’Challa puts Steve, Natasha, and Sam to work, helping him or Wakandan agents with anything they need, but T’Challa is fine with Wanda and Bucky staying out of the fray for now.

Steve and Natasha are with T’Challa for the next few days and Sam is busy with training (also known as the Dora Milaje kicking his ass) so it’s just Bucky and Wanda tonight. They try not to wander too far from their rooms unless they’re told it’s fine, especially since their existence in Wakanda is a closely guarded secret. 

Tonight they’re in Wanda’s rooms, playing poker for pretzels and M&Ms. After weeks spending a lot of time together while the others are away, they’ve gone from allies to acquaintances, to friends. Enough so that Wanda is comfortable swiping one of his M&Ms, popping it into her mouth with a grin. She’s come a long way from the quiet, ashen woman who’d clung to Natasha’s hand when she and Sam arrived in Wakanda. Bucky’s smile feels easier too, like he’s remembering how, and her answering smile is even brighter.

They’re sitting close, Wanda sitting criss-cross facing him, her knees brushing his thigh. She smells fresh, her smiles coming easily. She’s wearing soft, flowing pants and a long-sleeved shirt and she’s just the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen.

“I had this dream about you,” he says, words flowing out before he can stop them. That’s new in the past couple of weeks too, getting used to being able to say whatever he wants with no repercussions. Well, Sam teases him and Steve sometimes gets misty-eyed, but there’s no punishment. Wanda just cocks her head in surprise.

“You had a dream about me?” she asks curiously.

Bucky nods, feels his face flush a bit. “Steve had grounded us for painting Sam’s wings, so we were sneaking out,” he says.

Wanda grasps his forearm as she throws her head back and laughs. “He grounded us?” she asks around a giggle. “Did he send us to bed without dinner, too?”

It’s only years of practice that let him control his face, because the dream had changed a bit there, taking a random turn as dreams tend to, and he had actually taken her to bed. Maybe he’s projecting too loudly, she had once told him that it’s hard to block people’s thoughts sometimes, because she tilts her head a bit, a considering look on her face. 

Before he can say anything (to change the subject or tell the truth, he isn’t sure which), she asks, “Can I kiss you?”

Bucky just stares at her for a moment. In the ‘40s he would have said hell yes in a second, leapt at the chance with a woman like her. But since then...well, when you’re on the run and anyone could be an enemy, the option of kissing someone is too big of a risk. He knows Wanda though, knows to his core that she’s good and kind and would only ask because it’s something she wants. She’s watching him patiently, waiting for his answer, but he can see the way her fingers are picking at her nail beds, the tightness in her eyes as she braces for rejection.

He’s not at all interested in rejecting her.

Bucky leans in, cupping her jaw in his palm. She looks small and delicate like this, yet he knows she could rip him to shreds if she wanted to. He finds that he likes that. He also likes the way her breath catches, how she leans forward just a bit, how her eyes are dark with want. He likes how soft her lips are against his.

He intends to keep the kiss soft and sweet, not wanting to push her past her comfort zone, but Wanda’s having none of that. She kisses him harder, one hand clutching at his shoulder, the other tangling in his hair, and any doubts he may have had fly out the window. He drops his hands to her waist, tugging her to him until she’s in his lap, straddling his thighs. She grinds down against where he’s already hard, smiling against his lips when he groans.

“Wanda,” Bucky whispers, lips brushing against hers.

“I’m sure,” she says, taking the hem of her shirt and tugging it over her head, revealing her bare breasts. 

He doesn’t ask again, dragging his hands up her sides, thumbs running over the undersides of her breasts. She arches into his touch, gasping when he brushes her hard nipples. They undress each other quickly, hands and mouths wandering, like now that they’ve started touching, they can’t bear to stop. 

They end up with Wanda lying on the couch, Bucky between her spread thighs. He’s been dreaming about this, too, being able to taste her. The noise she makes when he licks up her slit is even better than he’d imagined, a low moan that makes him harden even more, but he wants to do this for her first.

He enjoys exploring her, figuring out just how she likes to be touched, how she trembles when his tongue presses against the side of her clit, how when he slips a finger inside of her, she whimpers his name, hand twisting in his hair. He learns exactly how to press against her g-spot to make her shake, to snake a hand up to play with her nipple to make her tighten around his fingers. He learns exactly what she sounds like when she comes on his tongue, thighs tightening on either side of him as he works her through her orgasm, nearly grinding down on his face. He loves it.

When her thighs finally relax, letting him pull away, he’s expecting her to need a few moments, but she immediately grabs for him, tugging him until he’s crawling up her body. She pulls him down into a kiss, not bothered at all by the taste of herself on his tongue. She rolls her hips, her slick cunt sliding along to length of his cock, making him let out a surprised groan.

“I want to feel you,” she says, kissing the corner of his mouth. 

Bucky curses under his breath, trying to remember if he has a condom anywhere, when one floats in front of his face, surrounded by red energy. He lets out a short laugh, looking down at her grinning face. He’s missed being in bed with someone and just being able to laugh.

Bucky unwraps the condom, quickly rolling it on and pressing against her entrance. He looks up at her, checking one more time that she’s ready, before slowly sliding into her. Being inside her wet, perfect cunt is intoxicating, and he closes his eyes and grits his teeth, needing a moment before he does something embarrassing, like coming that second. 

Wanda waits for him, even though she’s practically vibrating in place, her soft hands running up and down his arms, as if the new metal arm and his scarred shoulder aren’t things to be shied away from. When he opens his eyes, her lower lip is caught between her teeth, a red flush on her cheeks. She rolls her hips when she sees him looking, making both of them moan. 

Bucky doesn’t need any more encouragement than that. Bracing one hand on the arm of the couch by her head, the other gripping her waist, he thrusts into her slowly, eyes on her the whole time. Her grip on his arms tightens, her body rolling with his thrusts, urging him to go faster.

“I’m not glass,” Wanda says, wrapping a leg around his waist to pull him even deeper into her. “I won’t break.”

He nods and takes her word for it, fucking into her faster, making her throw her head back with a gasp, dripping cunt tightening around him. He’s never wanted someone more, never has been so happy to be with someone. He adjusts his grip on her waist, hand sliding to her lower back to tilt her hips up, letting him drag over her g-spot with each thrust. 

Wanda nearly shrieks at the new angle, thighs trembling on either side of his hips. She drops a hand between them, pressing her fingertip against her hard little clit, her body tightening around him. He can feel how close she is and he moves even faster within her, wanting to make her fall over that edge, to feel her coming around him.

“That’s it, doll,” he says, voice rough. “Let me see you.”

She clenches around him as she starts to come, breath stuttering as her nails dig into his arm. Words flow as he can’t help but tell her how well she’s taking him, how beautiful she is like this, how perfect she feels around him. He’s focused on her, on her face slack with pleasure, on her sweet cunt spasming around him, that his own orgasm catches him by surprise, making him hiss her name as he jerks inside her. 

Bucky rests his forehead against hers as pleasure rushes through him, cock emptying into the condom. Her shaking arms wrap around his shoulders, holding him tightly to her as they try to get their breathing back to normal. One hand slides up, fingers carding through his hair. He shifts her in his arms until he’s lying on his back, her body splayed on top of his.

“Natasha’s going to break my arm when she finds out,” Bucky says eventually with a wry smile, fingers trailing up Wanda’s bare arm. She has a soft spot for Wanda a mile wide.

Wanda laughs. “I doubt it. She told me to ‘ride him like a stallion’,” Wanda says.

Bucky snorts, pressing a kiss to her forehead. Of course she did.


	3. Kitty Pryde/Illyana Rasputin NSFW

It had been a long and trying day and all Kitty wanted to do was sleep, maybe for six whole hours if she was lucky. But then Illyana had teleported into Kitty’s office for the first time in weeks thanks to a mission in Europe and, well, maybe sleep can wait.

Kitty watches as Illyana locks the office door then turns to look at her, a slight smirk on her lips. Kitty pushes her chair back, intending to stand, but then there’s a disc of light and Illyana is right there between her and the desk. Kitty doesn’t startle, doesn’t really anymore with Illyana’s tendency for teleportation, but her heart beats a little faster. 

Illyana steps between Kitty’s knees, leaning over, hands on the armrests of Kitty’s chair. Their faces are scant inches away and Kitty’s breath hitches. She doesn’t move away.

“In my office?” Kitty asks. “Anyone could walk in…”

“Everyone’s asleep. And don’t worry, it only seems kinky the first time,” Illyana says with a wink.

Kitty rolls her eyes. “I think we’ve surpassed kinky months ago,” Kitty says, but she still licks her lips as Illyana drops to her knees between Kitty’s legs.

“I could stop if you want,” Illyana says, fingers lightly trailing up the bare skin from Kitty’s ankle up to her knee.

“Don’t you dare,” Kitty says.

Illyana smirks and moves her hands up Kitty’s thighs, hooking her fingers in the waistband of her panties and tugging them down. Kitty’s so glad it’s laundry day and all she’d had was a skirt as Illyana spreads her thighs wider, shoving the skirt up around her waist. Illyana trails light fingers over Kitty’s inner thigh, tracing the crease where her leg meets her body. Her hands are warm on Kitty’s skin, her fingertips barely ghosting over her wet slit. She gets like this sometimes, intent on just touching, on making Kitty needy and desperate.

“It’s been weeks, don’t tease,” Kitty says, squirming a bit.

Illyana grabs her by the waist and yanks her to the edge of the chair, making her gasp. “Who’s teasing?” she says.

Before Kitty can say _uh, you,_ Illyana licks up her slit and the words get lost in her moan. She must have been craving this just as much because Illyana doesn’t slow down, fingertips digging into Kitty’s skin as she laves her tongue over her sensitive clit. 

Kitty bites her lip, trying to keep quiet. There are people all over the school, people who don’t need to see their professor being eaten out in her office. Illyana doesn’t let up though, dropping a hand between Kitty’s thighs and sliding two long fingers into her. Kitty gasps, hand flying down to tangle in Illyana’s hair, and she can feel her grin against her sensitive flesh. Illyana likes taking her apart, likes knowing she’s the reason for the little gasps and moans, the way she trembles, how her thighs quiver on either side of Illyana’s head.

Kitty whimpers when Illyana presses her fingers against her g-spot, pushing her closer and closer to the edge. Her tongue flutters against the side of her clit, the way she does when she’s done playing around and is ready for her to fall apart.

“Illyana!” Kitty gasps, hand tightening in her hair. Illyana just hums, moving her fingers quicker within her, her tongue pressing more insistently. It’s only a few moments later when Kitty’s coming with a cry, her hand covering her mouth as she clenches around Illyana’s fingers, pleasure flowing through her.

Illyana pulls away before it becomes too much, nipping at Kitty’s inner thigh before looking up at her with a satisfied smirk, as if she hasn’t made her come dozens of times before. She lets Kitty tug her up in a long, deep kiss, looking a bit dazed when Kitty pulls away. Good, it’s her turn next.


	4. Bucky/Wanda NSFW

Wanda and Bucky have been on separate continents for almost a month now and she’s ready for it to be over. He and Steve have been on some super secret mission in Europe that only Natasha seems to know the details of, so when she texts Wanda _incoming ;) shave your legs and brush your teeth,_ Wanda has a good idea of why.

Wanda’s not sure how much time she has, so she doesn’t bother shaving her legs (she doesn’t particularly care and neither does Bucky) but she does brush her teeth because that’s just good advice. She tries to relax, to curl up in her chair and focus on her book instead of how much she’s looking forward to seeing him, but her mind wanders. 

She’s not searching for his mind, she’s just so attuned to him by now that he stands out, even in the crowded Avengers facility. His mind brushes hers and her breath catches. He feels like warmth to the core of her and a caress down the spine, and she can’t believe she hadn’t felt him before now. She barely has time to set her book down before he’s knocking on her door. 

He’s as beautiful as she remembered, his smile wide and bright, even though she only sees it for a moment before he’s surging forward, kissing her like he’s been missing this as much as she has. She tugs him inside, managing to close the door behind him without her lips leaving his. He spins them, pinning her back against the door, his body pressed against hers. 

Wanda’s hands are tight on him, one clutching at his arm, the other tangled in his hair. His mouth is hot on hers, as desperate and needy as she feels. She breaks the kiss with a gasp, breathing deeply in the few inches between them. His hands cupping her jaw brush thumbs over her flushed cheeks, his eyes intent on hers.

“Miss me?” he asks, a smile quirking at the corner of his lips.

“A bit,” she teases. “Why, miss me?”

“Every damn day,” he says, far more serious than she’d expected, but before she can say anything, he’s leaning in, kissing and nipping at her throat. She lets out a soft moan, tilting her head to the side so he has more room. “I’m not gonna stop leaving marks ‘til I’m sure everyone knows you’re mine,” he murmurs, lips brushing her skin.

“They already know,” she says, her words cutting off into a gasp when he bites down harder, teeth sinking into her skin. “Do you think they - god - haven’t noticed us?”

“I don’t care,” he says, then he’s kissing her again, hands wandering, and okay, she needs to get to her bedroom before they get rug burn again. Luckily he seems to be on the same page, lifting her easily and heading down the hall to her bedroom. She shrieks in laughter, wrapping her legs around his waist, knowing he won’t drop her. 

He’s grinning when he tosses her down on her bed, tugging his shirt over his head before leaning over her. She yanks off her shirt, lifting her hips at the same time so he can tug down her pants, leaving them both in just their underwear. He crawls up her body, eyes dark, and rolls his hips, grinding the hard line of his cock against her.

“Oh god,” she moans, eyes fluttering shut. He does it again, lips making their way down her neck, teeth grazing her collarbone, pushing her bra strap down to suck a mark onto the swell of her breast. “You’ve been gone for weeks, you don’t have to tease.”

“Mm, having fun,” he says, then drags his teeth over her hardened nipple, the sensation incredible through the lace of her bra, sending a zing of pleasure between her legs. It feels even better when he takes it off completely. 

He loves doing this, no matter how much he wants to get off. He enjoys kissing and nipping his way down her body, enjoys pulling down her panties, shouldering his way between her thighs and spreading her wide, loves to lick and suck over her wet clit, two fingers buried in her until her legs are trembling on either side of his face. 

She threads her fingers in his hair, gasping as he crooks his fingers inside her. It’s been weeks without him and it feels so good that she can’t help but cant her hips, grinding down against his mouth. He moans against her, the hand on her thigh tightening. She runs her fingers over his and he easily threads his fingers with hers, tongue moving faster over her clit.

She’s close and she knows he can tell, that he notices the way her body is tensing and trembling, how her breath is getting shorter. It’s only a few more moments of his tongue pressing against her clit before she’s coming with a cry, thighs tightening on either side of his face. He doesn’t pull away, keeps undulating his tongue against her and moving his fingers inside her as warm pleasure courses through her veins. 

She tugs him up when it’s close to too much and he comes easily, losing his boxers on the way, crawling up her body and kissing her roughly. His hard cock is pressed against her core and she rolls her hips, dragging her wetness up his shaft. He hisses, hand on her hip spasming. She does it again, the tip of his cock notching at her entrance. 

Bucky breaks the kiss, pulling back just enough to watch her face as he presses forward, sliding his length inside her with one slow thrust. It pulls a gasp from her, fingernails digging into the skin of his back. They’re both still for a moment, a bit breathless, just staring at each other, before he pulls back and thrusts into her again.

His movements are tight and controlled, despite how much she knows he wants this. The desire and need are rolling off of him, curling pleasantly at the edge of her mind, not at all matching with his methodical pace. She doesn’t want him to feel like he needs to control himself, like he needs to hold himself back.

Wanda rolls her hips up, meeting his thrusts, and kisses him until she’s breathless. She throws a leg over his hip, making him slide deeper into her. Bucky’s rhythm stutters, his breath hitching as he looks down at her, the look on his face raw and desperate. 

“You don’t need to hold yourself back from me,” she says. 

Before he can answer, something self-deprecating no doubt, she rolls them quickly, using a move he taught her and a little help from her powers, until he’s on his back, Wanda straddling him. He laughs in surprise, grinning up at her. This is how she likes him to feel; open and happy. She grinds down, his cock shifting inside her. It makes him grip her waist tightly, eyes wide as he swallows hard. She likes him like this, too.

Wanda braces her hands on his chest, raising and lowering herself on his cock. He feels amazing inside her, thick and long, but as much as she wants this to last, she also wants to make him come. She rides him harder, helped along by his hands on her hips. Bucky thrusts up into her, making her cry out, her thighs starting to shake. But she gets what she wants; Bucky isn’t holding himself back anymore. He’s taking what he wants, fucking her like they both want him to.

His thrusts get more erratic as she rides him, gasping as he fucks her harder. He’s getting close, his body under her getting tenser, fingertips digging into the skin at her waist. She hopes he leaves the little fingertip-shaped bruises she loves so much. 

Bucky’s metal hand drops from her waist, dipping between her legs. He presses gently against the side of her clit, careful not to put too much direct pressure, until she’s tightening around him, the slow, steady build of her orgasm finally crashing over her. Her rhythm stutters as she comes, clenching around the hard cock inside her, pleasure rushing through her. 

The first time she’d come with Bucky, she’d accidentally levitated all the furniture in her room. She avoids that this time, though there’s a very distinct red tinge to her fingertips. Bucky loves it, loves seeing her wild and lost in her pleasure, and it’s not long before he’s gasping out her name, cock jerking inside her as he comes. 

Wanda collapses forward onto his chest, face pressed against his neck, breathing harshly. Bucky wraps his arms around her, holding tightly as he comes down. He runs a big hand up and down her spine, making her hum contentedly. They’ll probably doze for a bit, then have an actual conversation, but for now, this is just what they both want.


	5. Clint/Laura/Natasha

Clint really doesn’t think it will work, but he’s desperate enough that a traitorous part of his brain dares to hope. He should be grateful, he has Laura and his kids back, but he’s selfish and wants more. He sees the pain when Laura’s eyes slide to Natasha’s side of their bed. He sees how she pauses when she comes across Nat’s rings in the jewelry tray in the bathroom. He hears his kids cry at night when they don’t want him to hear. He hears Nathanial not want to hear his own name because it hurts too much.

Steve doesn’t say anything before he leaves to return the stones, just claps him on the shoulder and nods. That’s fine, Clint doesn’t have much left to say. He knows they share the same wild hope; a soul for a soul. It’s a child’s dream that returning the Soul Stone will return Natasha to them, which is why when the platform lights up and Steve reappears with an unconscious Natasha in his arms, well, Clint feels like his heart stops.

She’s bruised and bloody, but alive. The doctors aren’t sure how. They say her injuries are consistent with a great fall, but she’s somehow still alive. The world is still a mess, travel is a nightmare, but Helen Cho is able to make it, bringing with her a newer version of her Regeneration Cradle. 

Laura arrives maybe an hour later, joining Clint at Natasha’s bedside. A lot of people come and go, including Maria, Bruce, and Thor. Tony tries but Pepper threatens him back into his own hospital bed. Brunnhilde, the woman Thor had introduced as Valkyrie, arrives when the Cradle is nearly finished. She holds a hand out over Natasha, still unconscious, looking at her intently.

“She’s a true warrior,” she says eventually, pulling her hand back. “But the gates of Valhalla aren’t ready for her yet.”

“She’ll be okay?” Laura asks, her hand tight in Clint’s.

“She won’t die,” Brunnhilde says. “Healing matters aren’t my area of expertise.”

They thank her when she leaves with Thor, leaving them only with Maria, though she too has to leave soon. It’s just Clint and Laura, Clint with Natasha’s hand tight in his, Laura sitting on the edge of her bed, her hand on Natasha’s wrist, right above Clint’s. Helen comes to check on her occasionally, but the Cradle is done, they’re just waiting for Natasha to wake up at this point.

“Sometimes people need time,” Helen says. “The brain processes things differently than the body does. She’ll wake up when she can.”

It’s hours into the night, the hospital lights dimmed, when Clint feels Natasha’s hand twitch in his. He looks up sharply, but her face is still. Laura is asleep where she’s sitting on the bed, her head close to Natasha’s, and Clint doesn’t want to wake her unless he’s sure. It’s a few more minutes of staring at her intently when he feels her squeeze his hand, harder this time. Definitely deliberate. 

“Laura,” he says, touching her shoulder to wake her. She sits up quickly, looking between him and Natasha. “I think she’s waking up.”

Laura sits up straighter, turning back to Natasha. She brushes away the stray hairs around Natasha’s face that have escaped her braid, fingertips softly moving over her hair in the way that always makes Natasha melt in her hands. Natasha’s hand squeezes his harder.

“Hey, Natasha,” Laura says softly, fingers still moving through her hair. It’s the voice she uses to coax Natasha out of her nightmares, the voice that makes Natasha instinctively know she’s safe. Natasha lets out a little groan. “We’re here. You can wake up, it’s okay. You’re home.”

It takes a few more minutes, Clint’s heart in his throat, before Natasha’s eyes flutter open. She looks a bit foggy and unfocused for a moment, but then her hand grasps Clint’s tightly, her eyes flitting from him to Laura, then widening as she finally realizes what she’s seeing. 

“It worked?” she asks, voice hoarse, as she struggles to sit up. Laura puts her hand on her shoulder, trying to ease her back down, but Natasha yanks her into a hug instead, tears filling her eyes. Clint watches, blinking away wetness when Natasha reaches a hand out for him too. Clint swallows and goes, wrapping his arms around them as well as he can.

“Don’t do that again,” he whispers. “I can’t - why did you do that? Don’t - “

Natasha shushes him and lets herself be held between him and Laura until she eventually relents to exhaustion and sleeps. Laura stays curled next to her, head on her shoulder, with Clint sitting next to the bed. He doesn’t deserve them, he knows he doesn’t. Even before the last few years, with all he’s done, he hadn’t deserved them, but now...he isn’t worth being near them.

“Stop,” Natasha murmurs, patting his hand where it’s resting on her thigh. “I can hear your angst from here.”

“Just thinking,” Clint says just as softly, trying not to wake Laura. 

Natasha rolls her eyes and Clint has never been so happy to be on the end of her irritation. 

“Stop thinking. You guys did it, you got Laura and the kids back,” she says. “Be happy, dumbass.”

“And you,” Clint says. “I don’t know what we’d have done if you hadn’t come back. Don’t...don’t do that to me again.”

“It’s not high on my to-do list,” she says and Clint knows that’s as good as he’s gonna get. 

“Since Avengers Headquarters is kind of a big pile of rubble,” Clint says, “are you coming home with us?”

“Of course she is,” Laura says sleepily, kicking Clint in the leg. “Shut up and sleep. The kids are gonna be wild tomorrow.” 

“Yeah, shut up,” Natasha says with a grin. He’s thrilled to have them here to gang up on him again.


	6. Darcy/Bucky

“Men are terrible kissers!” Darcy says, tossing her bag into her chair when she gets to the lab after lunch.

“That bad?” Jane asks. They have a running tally of bad lunch dates at this point.

“First, we had zero chemistry, he doesn’t believe in climate change, and when he kissed me goodbye, it was like he was trying to suck the lips off my face,” Darcy says, nose scrunched up. Jane winces sympathetically. “I can deal with bad kissing if we have a great connection, but we had neither.”

“How many is this now?” Jane asks.

“Four!” Darcy says. “Four terrible dates and four terrible kissers. Why are men terrible kissers?”

“Thor isn’t,” Jane says. 

“Thor is an alien with over a thousand years a practice,” Darcy says. “Thanks for rubbing my nose in it though.”

Jane shrugs, then gets a mischievous look in her eye, one that Darcy doesn’t trust at all. 

“You could always ask Bucky,” Jane says. “You said ‘he looks like a man who knows how to kiss a woman’.”

“How dare you throw my own words back at me,” Darcy says, moving her bag so she can flop gracelessly into her rolling chair. “But god, yes. You just look at some men and know they know exactly how to kiss you senseless.”

“I don’t know about ‘senseless’ but I do my best,” Bucky says.

Darcy whirls, almost throwing herself from her chair, to see him leaning casually against the lab’s doorframe. Bucky looks relaxed, but his gaze is intense, one she can’t seem to look away from. She stares for a moment, slack-jawed, before pinching her arm, horrified that she isn’t actually dreaming.

“Jane, please open a portal beneath my feet. I need to disappear,” Darcy says when the ground doesn’t spontaneously swallow her.

Jane ignores her, addressing Bucky instead. “You like Darcy, you think she deserves to be kissed by someone who isn’t trying to eat her face, right?”

“Of course,” Bucky says casually. He glances at Jane when speaking to her, giving Darcy a moment’s reprieve from his eyes boring into hers. He looks back at her, eyes briefly flicking down to her lips. “She deserves the kind of kiss that curls your toes.” It makes Darcy’s breath catch a bit.

“You could always give her a demonstration,” Jane says, and Darcy is seriously considering throwing something at her. She’s lamented to Jane about her crush on Bucky enough that apparently Jane is done telling her to make a move and is doing it for her.

“I generally like to take a woman on date before my tongue goes in her mouth, and preferably talk to her not her best friend,” Bucky says wryly before focusing completely on Darcy. “I believe in climate change, we have chemistry, and I promise not to suck the lips off your face. Dinner tonight?”

“Sounds good,” Darcy says faintly, still a bit dazed at what’s going on around her. 

“Pick you up at 7:00?”

“Yeah, I’ll be ready,” Darcy says, excitement starting to bubble up inside of her. 

Bucky gives her a wink and Jane a wave before he leaves, eyes dragging over her one more time until he’s gone.

Darcy sits for a moment, torn between embarrassment, excitement, and confusion over what just happened.

“Jane,” Darcy says slowly, turning in her chair to face a grinning Jane. “I haven’t decided if I want to hit you or not...so...just keep that in mind.”

“Sure,” Jane says happily before turning back to her work. Ugh.

The rest of the workday seems to crawl by. She’s expecting to have to sneak out to make sure she had enough time to get ready, but Jane shoos her out a bit before 6:00, telling her she has places to be. Go figure.

The thing is, Bucky is right. At least about them having chemistry. They’re always sitting a bit closer than necessary, touching each other a bit more than is appropriate, eyes locked on each other a bit more than is normal for just friends. There’s always been something between them, something building, so really, him taking her out is just the next logical step.

It’s that thought that keeps Darcy’s nerves at bay while she gets ready. Bucky’s her friend, the one who helped her glue all Clint’s shoes to the ground. The one who taught her the best way to swindle people at darts. Bucky who has bad days and wants to just sit with her and read.

When he picks her up, there are just butterflies in her stomach, not the all-encompassing panic she’d vaguely expected. She knows Bucky, and she’s unafraid.

Conversation flows easily through dinner, pasta at a little Italian place that has been in Brooklyn since Bucky was a kid. Her traitorous heart races when Bucky takes her hand across the table, smiling softly as his thumb brushes over the back of her hand. When she was in college, she’d once made out with three men and a woman in the same night and was completely unfazed, but this is what gets her heartrate up? She blames it on Real, Adult Feelings ™. 

They walk slowly after dinner, enjoying the pleasant autumn night, hand in hand through the neighborhood Bucky used to know like the back of his hand. There’s a park on their right, a row of older apartments on their left, the street illuminated with the pinks and oranges of the sunset, when Bucky stops, tugging her gently to him by the hand. 

He brushes the hair from her face, fingers ghosting over her cheek before his hand rests on the side of her throat, thumb rubbing against her jawline. She steps closer, the front of their bodies pressed together, her face tilted up toward him.

This isn’t at all like when she was out with Greg earlier, who’d looked at her like she was a done deal, just someone to get into bed. Bucky’s looking at her like he’s the lucky one between the two of them, like he’s excited as much as she is.

Her heart is racing and there’s no dread, no second thoughts when he dips his head down, just want. She rises to her toes as he presses his lips to hers, soft and sweet. She wraps her arms around him, pressing even closer, moving her lips against his, and suddenly it isn’t as chaste. She feels something swelling within her, filling her with something warm and fluttery.

She parts her lips and Bucky happily takes her invitation, licks into her mouth, tongue moving against hers. She tangles a hand in his hair, about two seconds from saying fuck it and jumping into his arms, when he breaks the kiss, sucking in a ragged breath. He rests his forehead against hers as they try to get their breathing back to normal.

“Better than trying to suck the lips off your face?” Bucky asks.

Darcy snorts. “Much better,” she says, twisting a lock of his hair around her finger. “We might want to try again though. Just to be sure.”

Bucky grins down at her. She never loses that little thrill when he kisses her.


	7. Darcy/Tony

Darcy and Jane have been settled in at Avengers Tower for less than a week and so far, it’s not bad? They’d both kind of expected the worst, but it was either accept the job offer from Tony Stark or be stuck under SHIELD’s thumb again. Jane can hold a grudge like nobody’s business, so to Stark they went. 

It’s been quiet so far, most of the actual Avengers at the facility upstate, so they’ve mostly been left to their own devices. They’d been offered additional lab assistants and a whole staff, but Jane had refused. “We’ll get our bearings first, then decide if we need more people.” That’s fair. They’d had to taser their old intern Ian when it’d turned out he’d been trying to steal their research, so Darcy figures they’re entitled to a little paranoia. 

All in all, it’s been quiet for the last week, so when music starts blasting loud enough to vibrate their glass walls in the middle of the workday, they’re so startled that Darcy nearly drops her mug of tea and Jane actually squeaks.

“What the hell?” Jane asks, looking at Darcy incredulously. “This is an R&D floor, right?”

“Yeah, it’s - where are you going?” Darcy gets up out of her chair, running after Jane who’s all but stomped out the door. She knows that when Jane gets like this, it’s best to cut it off early or else she’ll be steamed up for hours. “Janey, maybe we shouldn’t go yell at people in our first week?”

“It’s loud!” Jane yells back, barely heard over the music.

“I know, but we’re the new kids here! Maybe play nice for a bit?”

“No!”

Jane follows the music, Darcy follows Jane, and they end up walking (stomping) into a lab down the hall and to the left. It’s deafeningly loud in here, loud enough that Darcy genuinely has no idea how someone could think, let alone be productive. Back in Black is blasting from the speakers on the wall and while normally Darcy would be cool with that, it’s too much if it’s loud enough to make her teeth rattle.

Jane is shouting, though Darcy can barely hear her, and a second later, Tony Stark is popping up from behind a desk and oh god, Darcy hasn’t even unpacked yet and they’re about to be fired.

“What?” Tony shouts, barely audible over the music.

“What the fuck why is it so loud I’m trying to work are you insane - !“

“Jane!” Darcy hisses, stepping on her foot before turning to Tony, who’s looking back and forth between them in confusion. Darcy takes a deep breath, putting all her mother’s advice about operatic breath support to use, and shouts, “Look, I’m really a fan of your music taste and while normally I’d be so on board, it’s so loud you might burst my scientist’s eardrums, so can you turn it down please!” 

Tony stares at her with his jaw hanging open for long enough that she’s starting to get legitimately worried he’s having some kind of fit, then he looks up shouts, “JARVIS, kill the music!” It’s so quiet so suddenly that it’s a bit disorienting, an obnoxious buzzing in her ears. Tony Stark is still staring at her in shock and she really hopes she isn’t about to be fired.

“Thank GOD, Rhodey was sure you’d be a supervillain,” he says.

It’s Darcy’s turn to stare, her hand flying to her ribs where those words have been on her skin since she was born. Jane, who’s known what Darcy’s words said ever since they got drunk after Thor said Jane’s, is looking between them in shock, and well, it’s just that kind of day.

“Are you...do you have any idea how much shit I’ve taken for having that on my body?” she asks, and that’s definitely not what she meant to say. “I mean...uh...hi?”

“Pepper has been threatening to cut the speakers’ wires for years,” Tony says, a grin spreading over his face. “Rhodey’s been carrying around earplug for the past fifteen years.”

“Okay, while we’re on that, why does he think I’m a supervillain?” Darcy asks.

“Because of the whole ‘my scientist’ thing,” Tony says dismissively. He’s still looking positively delighted, eyes roaming over her, and a slow smile spreads over her face. Tony Stark, notorious shit-stirrer, is her soulmate. He’s smart, he’s gorgeous, and she’s 100% sure he’ll be willing to help her raise some hell. 

“Okay, so now that you’ve found her, the music can stay at a reasonable volume, yes?” Jane says. 

“Jane,” Darcy hisses, not looking away from Tony.

“Absolutely,” Tony says. He doesn’t look at Jane either. “I’m stealing her for the day.”

“Good, I don’t need her pining,” Jane says. “Have fun, don’t blow anything up without me, keep the volume down.”

“Ma’am, yes, ma’am!” Darcy says to Jane’s retreating footsteps. 

Tony’s still looking at her like she’s everything he’s dreamed of, which is a damn heady thing. She’s saved from accidentally saying something embarrassing by Tony asking, “Do you want to get a drink and get to know each other? Or help me program a bot to roll around after Rhodey saying ‘I told you so’?”

Darcy grins. “Can we do both?”

“You’re perfect.”


	8. Wanda/Natasha

Wanda doesn’t hear Natasha speak until well into the fight in Sokovia. Wanda hadn’t spoken a word when she entered her mind before she and Pietro defected from Ultron, just pulled the strings of the deepest buried fears and pain, yanking them to the surface. She’d almost vomited merely a second later at what she’d discovered, at the horrible things done to her, things that are a bit too familiar, though not to the same degree. 

She tells herself it’s necessary, that she’s doing it for the greater good, but Natasha’s horrors won’t leave her mind, especially when she dreams.

Later, when she’s in the thick of it, fighting back Ultron’s army from retreating families, she briefly ends up back-to-back with Natasha. She flings a robot away that was trying to attack Natasha from behind, earning a nod and a quick acknowledgement in what Wanda thinks is Russian before she’s off again, taking down bots as she goes.

Wanda feels a sting from her shoulder, but ignores it. If it isn’t terrible pain, she can deal with it later. Her focus is on the task at hand, on keeping the innocent people alive. 

Later that night, after she’s visited Pietro in his hospital room, she’s peeling off her dirty clothes, body aching and ready for a shower. She leans over to turn on the water and nearly falls over when she notices her reflection in the mirror. She turns, craning her neck to see the hourglass symbol near her shoulderblade. 

Wanda...has no idea what to think. Soulmarks show up when your soulmate first speaks to you, signalling you’ve met the person fate’s chosen for you. She thinks of all the people she’s talked to today, all the people screaming for the loved ones, all the ones who’ve begged for help, who’ve asked where to go. Then she goes cold remembering Natasha’s quick words, the stinging on her shoulder after, right where that little hourglass appeared. 

Oh god. Her soulmate is Natasha. She’s tortured her soulmate. She has to brace herself against the counter at the nausea rolling through her. She swallows hard, looking down at her trembling hands. She tries not to think about all the pain she felt from Natasha’s mind, all the shame and guilt and fear. She showers quickly, trying to focus only on the task at hand, but she can’t hide from herself.

She dreams of Natasha again that night, of her dancing alone in the middle of a dark room, in a black tutu and pointe shoes. Wanda knows nothing about ballet, but she knows Natasha’s good, spinning and jumping elegantly in a way Wanda knows she’d never be able to replicate. 

Then Natasha is stopping, turning to look right at her. She speaks but Wanda can’t tell what she’s saying. It doesn’t matter, because Natasha’s pulling her by the hand, tugging her into a dance she doesn’t know. She spins, trying to learn the steps, to keep up with Natasha’s quick movements. Right when she thinks she understands, when she can keep herself balanced, Natasha begins to fade, until she’s intangible, until Wanda can see her but can’t touch her. She reaches out, her hand traveling right through Natasha’s transparent fingers. 

Wanda wakes with a start, wincing at the aches in her body that make themselves known at the jerky movement. She sighs, knows she won’t be getting back to sleep, and gets up, pulling on a sweatshirt and walking out, planning to maybe walk around the compound until she’s tired. She’s not expecting to run into Natasha reclining on a couch in a sitting room area, a book open in her lap.

Wanda freezes in the doorway, not sure what to do. She’s not foolish enough to think Natasha doesn’t know she’s there, but she isn’t being chased out, and she’s sure that if she weren’t welcome, it would be obvious. She takes a tentative step into the room, then another when she isn’t asked to leave.

She hadn’t been seeking Natasha out, but now that she’s near her, she’s hesitant to leave. Natasha glances up and smiles slightly when she sees Wanda making a cup of tea, before looking back down at her book. Wanda folds herself into a chair across from the couch, looking down at the green mug in her hands, nearly snorting when she realizes it has a cartoonized Hulk face on it. 

“There’s one of each of us,” Natasha says, her eyes on the cup in Wanda’s hands. “Except for Clint. He’s still a bit peeved over that.”

Wanda laughs, looking down at the mug. Yeah, she can imagine his indignation. When she looks back up, Natasha’s studying her, head tilted slightly to the side. She hasn’t considered what she’s going to say to her, what her first words to her soulmate will be, but she was hoping for something sweet or clever. What she ends up saying is…

“I’m sorry for what I did.” Wanda immediately wants to kick herself. She’d planned on apologizing, of course, but not first thing. She’d wanted to start things on a more positive note, not...this.

Natasha sits up straighter, her book falling to the couch cushion next to her. Wanda’s frozen under her gaze, clutching at the mug in her hands. She swallows hard and sets the mug down with trembling hands. Natasha slowly reaches around, hand resting on her own shoulderblade, the same spot where Wanda’s soulmark had appeared. 

“That...is not what I was planning on saying,” Wanda says. 

“What were you planning on saying?” Natasha asks.

Wanda shrugs. “Something clever, ideally,” she says. “But I hadn’t expected to run into you yet. I hadn’t really thought about it.”

Natasha leans forward, elbows on her knees. “In Sokovia,” she says slowly. “That’s the first time I spoke to you.”

Wanda nods. “I don’t know what you said, and there was so much going on that I didn’t even realize until later,” she says. She bites her lip, unsure if she should go on, and says, “I dreamed of you.”

The corner of Natasha’s lips quirks up slightly. “What’d you dream?” she asks.

“I was dancing with the ghost of you,” Wanda says. “I couldn’t really touch you and couldn’t keep you from disappearing.”

Natasha looks at her contemplatively, then stands, extending a hand. “Then dance with the real me.”

Dancing with Natasha is much better than the dream of her. Her hands are warm and strong, her movements fluid and sure, guiding Wanda easily on where to step and how to move. Wanda doesn’t always feel graceful, but it’s hard to feel clumsy with Natasha leading her.

Natasha leans forward, nose brushing the shell of her ear, and says, “I said, ‘Thank you, and watch your ass’.” Wanda laughs.


	9. Darcy/Rumlow NSFW

Darcy is not happy. Her village has been hit with catastrophe after catastrophe in the last year. Huge storms, floods, earthquakes. The superstitious started saying that it’s because the gods are angry. After the third earthquake, the skeptical started to believe them. One month of severe flooding later and here she is, tied to the altar in the temple on top of the hill overlooking the village. They’ve apparently reverted to the old virgin sacrifice practice.

So, she isn’t happy. She’d been ‘volunteered’ by her aunt and dragged here, tied to the altar of the old gods. She’s struggling against the bonds when the candles around her start glowing brighter, enough that she has to close her eyes against the light. A moment later, it’s gone, and when she opens her eyes, a man is standing before her. He’s tall, has dark hair, and a muscled body that she gets a good look at because he’s completely naked.

“Oh no,” Darcy says, tugging at the ropes even harder, but when she looks down she sees the knots are just getting tighter. “Shit, shit, shit…” When she looks back up, she’s not sure what she’s expecting, but not his expression of exasperation. 

“You people,” he says with a sigh, stepping forward. He reaches for the ropes, easily untying the knots before stepping back. She sits up cautiously, a bit confused. Everything she’s been taught since childhood has said that the old gods can be full of rage and greed, their needs and wants superior to all others, but he’s...not pouncing on her, like all the stories make it seem like he’d do.

“Um…” She shifts, moving until she’s sitting on the edge of the altar instead of lying on it, her feet dangling over the ground.

“If your people still sent priests and priestesses, you would know that I have said I don’t need sacrifices, especially unwilling ones,” he says. The ball of fear inside her releases, leaving her confused and intrigued at the god before her. 

“My village keeps having disasters,” she says, finding it surprisingly hard to make eye contact. Not just because his eyes are dark and otherworldly, but because now that she’s untied and unafraid, it’s impossible not to notice how attractive he is. His lips twist in a smirk, like he knows what she’s thinking. “They think the gods are angry, so they brought me here.”

“It’s an act of nature, not the gods,” he says dismissively. “Rituals like the one they tried to force you into are about prosperity, not sacrifice. They’re fools. Even worse because you were unwilling.”

“Okay, well, now that I’m not tied up and I see you and you aren’t like thirty feet tall with ten arms...what if I were willing?” she asks.

He stares at her for a moment before grinning. He moves slowly toward her, dark eyes roaming over her face. He only stops when he’s right before her, close enough that the fabric of her dress is brushing against his legs.

“I would bless you with prosperity,” he says, dragging light fingers up the bare skin of her arm. She shivers at the touch, making his grin grow. His hand moves up, resting on the side of her throat when he pauses, face going serious. “Only you. I won’t help a village that forsakes their gods then begs them for help using another’s life.”

“Well then,” Darcy says, sitting up straighter and smiling with more confidence than she truly has. “Bless me.”

He looks triumphant, then he’s moving closer, stepping between her spread legs, her dress shifting up with the movement. He wraps a hand in her hair, pulling her toward him, then he’s kissing her. She’s only kissed one person before, a local boy named Ian when they were young and curious. It was nothing like this, none of the overwhelming and possessive way she’s touched. She’s tentative at first, not sure what she’s doing, but he guides her, easily showing her what to do to make him moan into her mouth.

He pulls back, eyes glittering, and drops to his knees between her legs. He runs his hands up her thighs, pushing her dress even higher. She flushes, embarrassed that she has nothing on underneath, but she’d been preparing for bed when she’d been dragged here and hadn’t been in anything other than her simple dress. He doesn’t seem to care, spreading her legs wider and leaning closer.

“What are you - oh god!” Darcy gasps, eyes closing in bliss as he licks up her slit, tongue pressing against that little nub that makes pleasure shoot through her. He rumbles against her as he laughs, then he’s moving his tongue against her, pressing against that spot that makes her cry out, tension building inside her. She’s touched herself before, knows what she enjoys,, but his _mouth…_

It makes sense. He’s a god, he has an infinite existence of experience. It’s not a surprise that he knows how to play her body. Then he slides two fingers into her and she completely loses her train of thought. He crooks his fingers inside her and suddenly the pleasure is crashing through her, making her body shake and gasps tumble from her lips.

She’s still trembling when he stands, looking pleased, and her breath catches when she sees how hard and thick he is between his thighs. He eases the dress over her head, leaving her as bare as he is, and though she wants this, she’s suddenly nervous. She’s never had anything inside her larger than her fingers, and he’s significantly bigger than that.

“What is it?” he asks, large hands cupping her jaw. 

Darcy swallows hard. “Will it hurt?” she asks.

The confusion clears from his expression. He leans in, kissing her forehead, and tells her, “I won’t bring you pain, little one.”

Then he’s pushing her back until she’s lying on the altar. He crawls up her body, powerful muscles moving under his skin. Her family has always worshipped the old gods, and lying nude on an altar feels sacrilegious, but he _is_ a god. He came to her, accepted her offer. He’s a god, and he wants her.

“And I’ve heard your every prayer,” he whispers in her ear, then he’s entering her, sliding slowly into her wet opening. She gasps, back arching, clutching at his arms. He was right, it doesn’t hurt, but the sensation is a lot. Still, being filled by him is better than she could have imagined. He’s brushing her hair from her face, murmuring soft words of encouragement until she’s able to relax completely, her grip on him loosening. “There we are,” he murmurs.

He rocks forward, shifting inside her, making her whimper. He finds a rhythm, thrusting into her welcoming body, grinding against the hard nub, zings of pleasure flowing through her. He runs a powerful hand over her body, rolling his thumb over her nipple, dragging blunt nails down her torso, pressing gently between her thighs. Everywhere he touches her leaves a trail of warmth.

His face is beautiful, especially this close, those dark eyes focused solely on her, expression raw, breath ragged. His thrusts are getting shorter and quicker, his fingers pressing against her clit. Tension is growing deep in her, her body beginning to tremble under his. She’s close to release and she thinks he is too. She rolls her hips into his thrusts, taking him in deeper. He growls, an otherworldly sound that makes her breath catch, then she’s flying apart, body rushing with pleasure. 

He doesn’t stop, dragging her release out, then he’s stilling, his length jerking inside her, making a low, pleased groan. He presses his forehead against hers, thumb brushing over her cheek as they breathe heavily. She should feel cold and uncomfortable on the stone altar in the unheated temple, but he’s radiating warmth and safety, and she’s surprised at how comfortable she is in his arms.

“You will be blessed with prosperity,” he murmurs, and the skin where her’s cradling her face starts to tingle. “You will be blessed with happiness. You will be blessed with love.”

Darcy swallows hard, the warmth of his blessing coursing through her. “That’s more than we agreed,” she says softly. She’s pleased and doesn’t want to offend him, but she doesn’t want to seem greedy.

“You offered more. You deserve more,” he says, finger still stroking over her cheek. “You worship the gods. You believe.”

She’s not sure what to say to that, so she just nods. He looks satisfied and moves back until he’s standing, no longer touching her. 

“I would suggest you find a new home,” he says. “I’m not inclined to save your village, especially after what they did to you.”

“I have no intention of staying,” she says.

“Good. When you go, I will guide your steps and offer protection,” he says. She knows she looks surprised but he just smirks. “A gift for the faithful.”

With that, the candles flare again, and in the sudden light, he’s gone, leaving behind only the pleasant ache between her thighs and tingling warmth through her body.

**Author's Note:**

> Come talk to me on [ tumblr ](http://www.hotpinklizard.tumblr.com).


End file.
